


Supernaturals of Liverpool

by Quantum_Algae



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Cecaelia - Freeform, Curses, Fluff, M/M, Siren, Supernatural Creatures, Vampires, Werewolf, Werewolves, modern!AU, spells, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 14:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Algae/pseuds/Quantum_Algae
Summary: John Winston Lennon, the madlad, brought a probably-most likely cursed necklace to the shared home of the legendary Beatles. Wonder what the curse is...





	1. The Cursed Necklace

The inhabitants of the Beatles’ House of Wonderment (as John dubbed it) were minding their own businesses and relaxing. George was laid down the couch, Ringo was decorating his dessert platter and Paul had just finished taking a bath and was brushing his teeth when suddenly, a shout came from the hallway, “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, OLD MAN!” A cackle then rang loud and clear around the house, followed by a door slam.

Ringo stuck his head out curiously from the kitchen and George craned his neck to see John, sauntering into the living room with a triumphant grin on his face and doused with sweat, cold as it was.

He peeled off his disguises (which were threatening to fall anyway) and threw them aside. “Alright, Geo?” John said, collapsing on the couch, pushing George’s legs back and panting slightly.

“What did you do?” George narrowed his eyes suspiciously. But before he got an answer, Paul ran in from upstairs, hair still a mess and a toothbrush dangling out of his mouth.

“What happened?” he asked with wide eyes. John’s face (if even possible) looked even more smug than before.

“I got us a new toy.”

** _30 minutes ago_ **

John was strolling into a new shop that he found. It looked dim and creepy and that was enough for him to explore it. On display was skulls and weird candles. John scoffed and immediately almost lost his balance when he was forced to stop, almost knocking over an old man, looking up to him. “Erm… Hello,” John said waving his hand a little. The man frowned and looked him up and down but stayed silent. John looked around nervously and seeing the man not showing any kind reaction, he continued in a rather posh accent, “Nice little shop you got here. Er… My name is William C-”

“John Lennon,” the man suddenly said with a raspy voice. John's eyes widened before he quickly tried to mask his expression with confusion.

“Hmm… a lot of people say that. I must really look like him. I should start a tribute band,” He offered his most charming smile but seeing that the man simply did not give a damn, he dropped it. “Alright, it’s not tha’ bad,” he rolled his eyes and tugged at his fake beard lightly.

Suddenly, a gleam caught John’s eyes. “Ey, what’s tha’?” he pointed on one of the shelves. A pendant, dull, metal coloured but shining nonetheless, was delicately placed on a velvety surface. He moved closer to examine it and saw the ‘For Free’ tag on it. “Eh, can I have that?” He asked the shopkeeper.

A mischievous and evil smile came on to the old man’s face. “Actually, I will prepare it for you and your worthless insects you call your friends.” John eyes narrowed but he nodded to the man.

  
  
  


John watched as the old man took weird things out of pouches under his desk. He watched as the man started to do some sort of a ritual. Watched as the man chanted and whispered something but all John could hear was “...turn them...monster that they are...creatures from legends...though the cruelty of life…” John raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The man seemingly finished the ritual and went under his desk again. He re-appeared with a small knife in his hand. John sat up straight and back up a bit when the man aimed it in his direction. “Now to seal your death and destruction, a drop of the victim’s fresh blood,” the man shouted as he leaped onto the desk.

John immediately jumped out of his seat and ran towards the door. He frantically tried the handled but the doors were locked by some kind of device that could control the lock from afar. He saw that the man was still chasing him so he ran back to the desk/counter, hoping to get further from the man. He saw a spear like object and a shield thingy near the pendant. He directed his gaze to the window and a crazy thought flashes across his brain.

He had to try it.

He grabbed the spear and the shield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pendant gleamed at him (and one insane man running towards him with a knife) and before he knew it, he had the item in his pocket and let out a battle-cry as he lobbed the spear at the glass windows next to the doors which shattered satisfyingly ( and much to the dismay of the man) and John burst through it, covering his body with the large, strangely light but quite sturdy shield. He fell outside with a loud clatter and a lot of bruises and road rash, but he didn’t even feel them (well at least then). A crowd of people stood and stared and even gasped at the sight. John paid no attention to them and ran. He looked back but didn’t notice the shop has disappeared.

** _Present_ **

“So you stole them?” Paul asked, breaking the long silence after John recounted his story.

“Well it  _ was _ labeled for free so technically, no.” John said somewhat cheerfully. He stood up to pick up the pendant that he displayed on the table but then crashed back down on the couch, wincing. Paul immediately stood up and held John’s hand, worry filing his eyes.

“Ugh… remember when I said I jumped out of the window? I think my leg got sprained,” John winced, “The right one,” he added when he saw Paul confusedly switching his gaze from John left and right leg. Paul stood up and told George to help him. Automatically, George took him from the armpits and Paul went to take John’s legs, something they've practiced way too much. Yay for underage drinking and getting pissed out of your mind.

  
  
  


After Paul, George and Ringo rubbed and tried to soothe the pain in John’s ankle (which Ringo basically fixed after he remembered what his parents did when he accidentally hurt his ankles), they all decided to hang out in the bedroom for a while. Paul was still tending to John, George went to get snacks to eat together in John and Paul’s bedroom and Ringo decided to bring the pendant to John. John looked over it fondly and put it on his bedside table. They talked and then they all followed their normal evening schedule (save for John limping every now and then). 

After a while they all retired to their own bedroom upstairs. John looked at the pendant one more time before sleep overtook him. He reached his hand and took the pendant, weighing it on his hand. He slowly slipped it on, being careful so that he doesn’t move Paul’s hand that was on his waist too much.

  
  
  


They all woke up the next morning to a loud, horrified screech.


	2. In An Octopuses Garden, With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, tis be my second chapter of my second chapter. I hope you enjoy

Paul, George and John gathered around the bathtub, their faces horrified but nowhere near how horrified Ringo was. He sat on the tub looking at where his legs are, well, were, since they are now replaced from the waist down by orangish yellow purple spotted tentacles, eight of them to be exact. His hand was gripping the edge of the tub and up on the wall, shaking until you can hear his rings jingle together. He looked frozen but was seemingly edging away from the tentacle which were curling up and tense.

After what seemed like years of silence, George piped up, “Are they yours? Like, really yours?” He lifted his hand to touch one of the tentacles but Ringo moved them away, looking at George, scared. “So you  _ can  _ move them then. That’s good.” George said as he retracted his hand. Instead of the tentacles he tried to take Ringo’s hand to calm him but it stuck on the edge of the tub and wouldn’t budge. Ringo stared curiously and fearfully. 

He tried to lift his hand off, but it wouldn’t move, same with one on the wall. He let out a scared whimper and looked pleadingly at George with teary eyes.

George furrowed his eyebrows then placed his hands on Ringo’s shoulder, staring straight into the bright blue eyes. “Listen. I know this might be impossible right now too calm down, so I just want you to look at me and just think about going to the movies with me, yeah? That really bad one where the actor keeps looking at the camera? An’ we’d point out the mistakes an’ inconsistencies an’ if we were to wrote them down, we’d get two whole pages?” This earned a slight chuckle from Ringo, whose tentacles visibly relaxed and hands started sliding into the tub.

“Y-Yeah, and we couldn’t stop laughing and people were staring at us because it was a funeral scene,” Ringo said slowly, smiling. George’s hands move to cup Ringo’s cheeks and wiped the tears about to fall from his eyes. Ringo closed his eyes and nuzzled into George’s hand, unconsciously bringing up a hand to touch George’s. Paul lifted his hand up to stop it but John held him back and shook his head slightly.

George found Ringo’s hand to be extremely cold and somewhat sucky but they were soft, like always, and George loved them. His hand was held by both of Ringo’s who was happily nuzzling his hand with closed eyes. He slid his hand down to Ringo’s shoulder and Ringo let go of George’s hand.“Alright, now get your tentacles out the tub slowly, Me an’ John have your back.” Right on cue, John slid next to George and held one of Ringo’s arms as Ringo slowly moved his tentacles out.

For about five minutes of Ringo sitting on the toilet seat, nothing happened and they started to lose hope until suddenly, the tentacles curled together with a tickly sensation and slowly morphed into a pair of legs, and hence, a very naked Ringo smiling brightly at his legs sat on the toilet. George didn’t seem to care and went to ask Ringo whether he feels alright and went to take some clothes for Ringo. Paul and John immediately wandered off into their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently polishing up the third chapter, be up in a bit :D


	3. Research and Refreshments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda a filler chapter so sorry it's kinda short ^^" he 4th chapter will be longer, promise!
> 
> Also, thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos <3

“What’s tha’?”

“Apparently the newest mythology creatures book from the library. Don’t touch it with your greasy hands.”

“Don't you need a library card to borrow books?”

“Yes, Paul. I have one since we were 14. Well, since _ I _was 14.”

George set down the scarily big and ancient looking book down on their coffee table. Paul frowned as a cloud of dust rose up from the book and John sauntered closer to take a look, a plate of chippies in one hand, half of which already eaten by him.

Ringo walked in from the stairs, his hair still a mess. He kept thinking of yesterday’s ‘accident’ and he couldn’t sleep until it was very, very late. “Mornin’” he greeted sleepy.

“Mornin’, Ritch!” Paul answered, smiling with brightness that rivals the Sun’s.

“What’s that?” Ringo asked, moving closer to see the book better.

“A book George got from the library-”

“It’s about mythological creatures and such-”

“He said it’s the newest one-”

“but it still looks dusty and old-” John and Paul answered, filling each other in and then, in complete sync, “and I can’t believe that George has a library card he often uses.” Ringo blinked slowly and looked at George, who in turn looked back at him and back to John and Paul.

“What?” they said (exactly in sync again).

Ringo averted his stare to the book and mumbled, “Nothing” and George shook his head and went back to flipping the pages.

~●~

George kept looking and looking. What exactly is it that he’s looking for? It’s not selkie, they’re seals. It’s not merrow, no claws or excess teeth. And most importantly, it’s not mermaid or merman, no scales and not half fish. He kept flipping and flipping and flipping the pages.

The library book was divided by “species” or what is somewhat similar amongst them, and then written in alphabetical order. He thought about how this book is practically useless when he found it. Cecaelia. He felt Ringo kneel down next to him and scanning the page as quickly but as thoroughly as he can as the others leaned closer. “Hmm… It’s almost the same as sirens,” John mumbled.

Ringo gulped and shakily asked “I can force people to do stuff when I sing?”

“I guess… We still don’t know much about it- er, you.” Paul said, uncertainty thick in his voice. Ringo furrowed his brows and looked back at the book. George turned his head to face Ringo and went to stroke his hair (ignoring the soft giggle and squee in the background).

“Have you washed yet, luv?” He asked gently. Ringo fidgeted with one of his rings and shook his head slightly. George examined him up and down, concern filling his eyes. “Let’s try the showers, ey? We’ll be quick.” George said, standing up and offering his hand to Ringo. Ringo looked hesitant, but he eventually took George’s hand and went upstairs with him. John and Paul stayed there smiling at each other and then reread the page.

~●~

After a couple of minutes, George came back with a happy and clean Ringo half-skipping beside him. Paul was draped over the sofa, absentmindedly playing with John’s hair who was sitting on the ground, leaning on the couch. They seem to be reading more of the book. George squatted in front of John and waved his hand between John’s face and the book. John lazily lifted his gaze to meet George’s. “Good news, everyone! Ringo.

only turns when he’s completely submerged underwater.” George said cheerfully, Ringo nodding furiously in the background with the widest smile any of them has ever seen. They went and sat on either side of John.

“Anythin’ new?” Ringo asked. John shook his head distractedly. Suddenly, George remembered something that John said as he retold his adventure.

“Erm, John, what do you remember the old man saying during the ritual thingy?” George asked, putting a hand on the book and pushing it slowly down.

“Something about turning someone into ‘monster they really are’, creatures from legends and cruelty of life” John deadpanned. Suddenly his eyes widen. He grabbed at the pendant’s coil and tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to take it off over his head but it's too small. After various failed attempts, he looked at Ringo apologetically who simply shrugged and offered a weak smile.

And then suddenly Ringo noticed something weird. “If you’re the one wearing tha’, then why am I the one that’s like this?”

John froze and slowly said, “Maybe it’s the one who held it before the wearer? God, I’m sorry lads, I fucked up so bad.” he buried his head in his hands and rubbed his face.

Behind him Paul gave the most dramatic sigh in history and said, “Y’know lads, we only have this freedom for another 2 months, and then we have the tour. We should do something to keep our minds of-” he vaguely waved his hand around John and Ringo, “-this.”

Ringo looked down at his legs sadly and muttered, “As long as we don’t go swimming in public, I agree.” George nodded, looking at Ringo fondly.

“I think so too, luv, but what?” John asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to go camping, y’know, in the woods with friends. That’d be quite nice, y’know, out there in the wilds for couple days, surviving an’ all tha’” Paul said, gesturing wildly with his hand. John raised an eyebrow at Ringo and George who, in turn, looked at each other and shrugged.

“As long as the fans doesn’t know, I’m gear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry it was so short ^^"  
If anyone wants to have a chat or has an idea/prompt or anything they want to see me write, just pop in to my tumblr @QuantumAlgae (I can't figure out how to do links, sorry) but be mindful that I'm not very comfortable with smut so... Yeah! See ya later :3


	4. Surrounded by Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys (I blame school)  
I decided to split chapter 4 into 3 parts since it starts and stops better then. This is reaaaaalllyy long for my standart (and writing on mobile doesn't really help)  
Anyways, enjoy this unedited mess! :D

“Alright, we’re here, lads!” Paul said, stretching his arms out as he got out of the car.

Ringo walked out while rubbing his eyes and yawned, “Already?”

“Ya better believe it, son!” John patted Ringo’s back. Paul’s enthusiasm seemed to have rubbed off onto him. George got out and stood behind Ringo, holding a half-eaten pack of crisps and looked off to the woods.

“This is it?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

“No, that’s just the outside. We’re gonna hike through that and then there’s this little glade with a calm freshwater stream next to it.” Paul explained as he handed each of them a (very colourful) hiking backpack and he sported a light blue one himself.

“Oi, why’d you get me a pink one?” Ringo protested, reaching for his camera.

“Hush now, child, and get your camera ready. It’s very scenic in there, y’know,” Paul said, picking up a picnic basket and a small cooler (with the help of George who has two tents rolled up under his armpits).

John walked up next to Paul and piped up, “Can’t wait, baby,” he leaned to peck Paul’s lips and followed, carrying his own and George’s acoustic guitar in both hands alongside his neon yellow-green backpack. Ringo shrugged, adjusted his heavy backpack and lifted his camera to his eyes and happily clicked away.

~●~

An hour later, they have the two medium sized tents set up and was sitting on the dry ground. George was strumming a tune on his guitar and John got a little too excited and went off with Paul to get sticks for a campfire they’re going to make later. Ringo was sat next to George, idly tapping out a rhythm to his tune. He looked down at his legs, stretched out in front of him. Why is he suddenly this...creature? Why him? He always feels picked on (though, of course, jokingly), the butt end of a joke or the victim of a prank so this must just be another prank, right? Another one of John’s humours, which he so loved, which just got a little bit too far?

“A penny for your thoughts?” George asked, snapping him out of his muse.

“Huh? Oh, I was just, er-”

“Asking the universe on why you are the most unlucky person in the world, always getting the worst things?” George cut in. He stopped playing his guitar and set them aside, leaned on a cooler. Ringo blinked a couple times. 

“Er… I mean, uh…”

“Hey, you can talk to me,” George said, rubbing Ringo’s shoulder. Ringo felt his cheeks flare and his thoughts seemed to slow a bit. He looked down at the ground and fiddled with one of his rings.

“No, it’s alright, Geo. I’m fine, really” he said, offering his best smile. But George continued staring at him, not convinced.

“Ringo… it won’t help you if you keep everything in there,” George said nudging Ringo’s chest, “And I can’t help you either.”

Ringo turned his gaze to the ground and fiddled again with his rings. How on Earth did they end up in this situation? They’re Northern lads, they’re not meant to be soft to each other like this. But then again, it wouldn’t hurt to just have one conversation, right? Especially when no one’s watching. Afterall, John and Paul are soft to each other all the time.

“I’m- I’m scared, Geo…” he managed to mutter after a while. “We don’t know what I am, we don’t know what I can do or what I can’t. What if I touched something which turned out to be lethal to me? What if _ I’m _lethal to someone and I hurt them? What if I hurt you? Or John or Paul?” Ringo kept his head tilted down and eyes to the ground. He felt tears forming at the edges of his eyes, which slowly rolled down his cheeks.

George lifted his chin up and wiped at the tears. Their eyes lock, the wide, panicked blues looking longingly into the soft and caring browns. “I know you must be scared. I would be too if I were you. But hey, we’ll get through this together, alright? I’ll always be by your side if you need me.” George said softly.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while facing each other. After a while Ringo saw George’s eyes flick to his lips and lock again with his eyes. Suddenly, George leaned forward, his hand crept around his waist and the other one slowly strokes his cheek. Ringo felt as if he was pulled by strings towards George. It all feels so natural and so smooth. Everything was in slow motion and it was beautiful. Ringo found himself wondering the softness of George’s lips and everything seems to be perfect. Or at least supposed to be until-

“WE’RE BAAAAACK! D’ye miss us?”

George jumped and knocked his guitar over which would’ve fallen into a particularly jagged part of the ground had he not caught it and Ringo almost fell over backwards into their tent. Paul skipped out of the edge of the woods, throwing his hands up towards the sky with the dramatic announcement. Behind him staggered John, wood logs and sticks piled high in his arms and a slight frown etched on his face which shone with sweat despite the cold-ish temperature. “Oh, did we disturb something?” Paul asked innocently, walking closer to the pair who were still sitting on the ground, clutching at their heart.

George was the first to respond, having gathered his breath,“Christ, Paul. Have ye ever learned to not scream at people when they least expect it?” to which Paul responded by shrugging and smirking slyly, switching his glances from Ringo to George and back. Ringo faintly heard George muttering what he could only assume as strings of curse words and insults (and what sounded to Ringo as “almost kissed him”).

By this time, John made his way near the campfire spot and dropped the whole content of his arms on the ground. He sighed and immediately starfished on the ground. “Why… why d’ye want us ta... ta go today anyway? Without notice too!” John asked, panting.

Paul tutted and went to sit cross legged next to John, slowly stroking his hair. John shifted to lay his head on Paul’s lap and closed his eyes. “You see, my dear friends and boyfriend, I saw the news today an’ I thought “Oh, boy! This is great!” cause, y’know, it says that today was gonna be clear an’ there was gonna be a full moon so, y’know, it’ll be bright an’ all an’ the peak of a meteor shower is gonna be at half past 11! So I thought, y’know, bet it’ll be the perfect time for camping!” Paul explained. Ringo could’ve sworn that he heard Paul mumble “and a couple of other things” while caressing John’s chin, making the latter giggle but it happened so fast, Ringo wasn’t sure if it was real. George rolled his eyes at Paul and stretched to get his guitar (which was safely placed on the soft ground after the almost-incident-of-broken-guitar).

They stayed in a comfortable silence, each member lost in his own thoughts with George playing slow and quiet melodies on his guitar.The first seems to meld into the next and it keeps going and going, each one played perfectly until suddenly it was sunset. Paul, suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings and the time, jumped up and announced that he would be making the fire with John (_ of course _ ) and George and Ringo were to get water from a nearby freshwater stream, an activity Ringo would _ never _ have thought to be so anxious and downright _ terrified _ with, which Ringo, (for obvious reasons) had _ refused _ with all his heart, but George took his hands gently, and smiled him a smile so sweet his bitterness goes away and all his fear subsides. So much so that, about half an hour later, he was back to his octopus form in the middle of the smallest stream he had ever seen in his whole life, stuck and wet from head to toe. He didn’t quite remember what had happened. It was like he blacked out and woke up in the stream, confused and _ very _scared, with George, one hand extended towards him, grimacing at the scene.

George looked down at where Ringo was from a nearby boulder that he was sitting on. He could see the fear in Ringo’s eyes grow with every minute and the tears that starts to form as he mutters apologies after apologies for _ somehow _ getting himself in that situation. And each time, George responds with a consolidating “No Ringo, it’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out.”

George didn’t quite know himself how Ringo got there. One minute, they were walking in serene silence, Ringo glancing up at his face once in a while (and blushing every time he does so), and the next Ringo’s eyes widen after he threw his head up as if he smelled something nice, whispered “stream” and took off. George tried to catch up, he really did, but Ringo seemed as though he swam through the air and by the time George caught up to him, he already took off his clothes and was about to jump in the stream. George’s eyes widened and he lunged towards Ringo to catch him.

“NO!” George shouted as a bright light encompasses Ringo, who turned into his octopus-form and was blinking dazedly. George slowly lowered his hands and sat on a boulder close by to think of a way to get Ringo out. After a while, his gaze caught the rock he was sitting on. Slowly, he rocked himself back and forth and the rock, though heavy, moved with him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how- It was like blacking out and- George? What are you doing?” Ringo asked as George began rolling the rock into the continuation of the stream, a close but safe distance from Ringo.

“Urgh- Just, just try t’ get yer tentacles outta the way will ye?” George grunted as he pushed the heavy boulder into the stream.

As soon as the boulder settled on the stream, it started to fill until it was high enough to submerge Ringo’s lower half. In no time, Ringo was lazily (but unconsciously) moving his tentacles to float. George offered his hand to help Ringo up (which he took while blushing) and waited for him to turn back with Ringo’s folded clothes his arms.

~●~

“What’s taking ‘em so long?” John asked, leaning on Paul and throwing pebbles into the darkness of the forest, aiming for targets he can’t even see. The warmth of the fire they managed to get going after two lighters and a whole lot of struggles glaring against them, warming up the air all around.

“I don’t know, they should’ve been back a long time ago. It’s getting dark.” Paul replied, idly playing the harmonies to some of their songs on John’s guitar. Paul suddenly decided that he was bored with playing guitar and shoved it into their tent next to them and swiveled around to look and John’s faced “You should wear your glasses, Johnny,” he said after tsk-ing.

John smirked, threw another rock and said “Yer just like Mimi, ye are,”

Paul put on a faux frown and with a posh, womanly voice answered, “Oh, dear. You can’t compare people. Your aunt wouldn’t do this now, would she?”

As John turned his head and was about to ask what ‘this’ was, Paul pressed his lips against John’s who fixed his position to return the kiss, just as Ringo and George enter the clearing. Ringo just widened his eyes and turned away, but George cleared his throat as loud as he could.

“I thought this was a time for us four?” George drawled as the pair jumped and pushed themselves off of each other in surprise. Paul scowled at George as John tried to throw a rock at the blurry mass ahead (which he missed by miles without George doing so much as blinking).

“Well look who’s back after an hour of _ getting water _,” Paul said as he cleaned the non-existent dirt on his sweater. After he deemed that the completely-clean-anyway black sweater presentable, he clapped his hands and announced, “Now, the meteor shower is best seen at half past 11, so what do we want to do?”

John felt (and heard very loudly) his stomach starting to complain and gnaw at itself. He smiled sheepishly at Paul. “Maybe we should cook so we can eat?” he asked, hands hugging his own stomach.

“Awww, poor widdle Johnny is hungwy. When will his Princess-love get him something to eat?”

John couldn’t quite see George at the moment but he could _ hear _ and _ feel _ him sneer. And sure enough, there George was, sitting cross legged in front of him with the most insulting lookin’ sneer John had ever seen in his life, setting up pots and sticks to hang them on over the fire.

“Oh, shut it Geo. Yer just as hungry as I am, let’s face it.” John shot back as George stuck his tongue out in his direction. Paul set down a small box of spices and vegetables which has 4 large packets of ramen noodles on top of it near the fire and poured some of the water that George and Ringo got into the pan. Ringo started to open the packets of ramen noodles and removed the ingredients out of them. As soon as the water boiled, George and Paul (A.K.A. the people that can actually cook stuff) got to work.

Half an hour later, warm ramen with vegetable broth and warm drinks were held in each of the members hand. Although the air is supposed to be rather warm, the wind that blew in that forest was very cold for some reason that nobody knows or frankly care about. They ate and warmed themselves up as they laughed and joked, getting a little tipsy on the rather strong beer that they brought along. Once in a while, a bright light traced across the night sky as some meteors passed by. Suddenly, Paul jolted up and sat straight up, making John’s head (which was leaned on his shoulder) banged against his shoulder and nearly slipped and fell down.

“What’s wrong, love?” John asked, rubbing his temple as a headache starts to form from the impact.

“I forgot, we can’t watch the meteor shower here, we have to go to the middle of the glade. It’ll be way better. Come on, bring some snacks and follow me.”

George, who already has a box of biscuits in hand, stood up and went after Paul, followed by Ringo, who grabbed a bag of marshmallows. John stared on from where he sat, somewhat confused and still rubbing his head. Oh well, Paul gets easily excited over a lot of things. He shrugged and stood up, grabbing his glasses and jamming them on. But as he was about to follow, he heard a faint howl in the distance. He turned to the direction where it came from and squinted his eyes to see if there was something but then remembered that Paul said there was nothing harmful around these woods. Well, it was very faint, so it probably was just his imagination. He cocked his eyebrow and skipped after the other three to catch up.

~●~

When John got to the other three, they were standing around in the open, looking up and around for a place to sit. Paul sprawled himself onto the soft grass with Ringo sitting cross legged behind him. George chose to stand and kept his hands behind his back. John slowly set himself on the grass next to Paul, using his hands as pillows.

“Well,” John piped up, “where are they?”

Paul gave a small frown and checked his watch. “In about 10 minutes. Hey, look at that cluster of stars! It looks just like that busted guitar that ye used to have, Geo.”

“Naw, that can’t be right. I look after me guitars as well as they could be looked after.”

“Well I know what it looks like. It looks like the things I see in Macca’s eyes every time I look at ‘im,”

“Aw, shurrup John, you hopeless romantic.”

“Ay, look! I think I saw a meteor streak past.” Ringo said, interrupting George and effectively getting the other two’s attention.

Sure enough, a bright line whizzed by just under the pale and round moon. And then another one, just on top of the trees. And another, and another. They stared in wonder at the cosmic shower above them, the land around them only lit by the stars and the moon which were bright and shimmering with a strength in which you couldn’t possibly see in the cities. The fact that there were barely any clouds passing by made the scene much more easier to witness.

John turned his head towards Paul, whose eyes were twice as big as they usually are and mouth slightly agape. Both of his hands were on his chest, idly massaging each other. He slowly slipped his hands to Paul, which he took, and squeezed gently.

Although the moon was a little bit of a bother, seeing how bright it was, it was still a magnificent sight to behold. But after a while, John grew bored and let out the biggest fake yawn (which turned into a real one) and announced that he felt rather tired. Ringo also yawned and agreed, adding that transformations made things more exhausting.

Paul painfully tore his eyes from the sky and said, “Well, alright. We’ve been here for an hour anyway and the moon’s a bit too bright for a maximal outcome. I honestly thought it would make it better.” He stood up with the help of John, and the four set off to their tents. After a brief ‘goodnight’ to one another, they got ready for bed and went to laid down on the sleeping bags which Paul had probably brought for all of them.

John grabbed his glasses and left them next to him thanks to the incessant nagging from Paul for him to wear it again tomorrow (and the fact that Paul complimented the way he looks twice as much when he has them on). He saw Paul setting himself down behind him after downing a glass of water.

“Come on then, let’s get a bit of sleep,” Paul said, shuffling in closer.

“Alright, mum. But not without you cuddling me and singing me something,” John cheekily mumbled as he stifled a real yawn.

“Alright then, little baby. Sleep and I’ll sing for you,” Paul giggled.

John slowly slipped into unconsciousness as he heard Paul softly humming while stroking his hair

“da darad nda da hmmm da… And I will sing a lullaby…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... This is more romantic that I originally planned... Anyway, tell me you thoughts on this chapter or the story in general. Leave a comment and/or a kudos, it would make me extremely happy <3 Again, if you want to chat/have something you want me to write (keep in mind I don't do smuts) you can go to my tumblr @quantumalgae (yep, still don't know how links works :" ) Sorry for all the inconsistencies and inaccuracies or out of character-ness from the boys.  
See you next chapter!


	5. Aaaaaah The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback of the boys preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this should not have taken this long and I have no excuses other than a huge writing block and this was my 4th rewrite of it :" And it's unedited so that should be fun.

Paul's eyes snapped open and a smile quickly spread on his lips. Today. Today has been the day he's waiting for. He's been planning to take the other lads for a camping trip and has found the perfect day ( which was today , Paul thought excitedly). His finger flew to disable the alarm on his phone before the ringtone even started. Next to him, John was still sleeping soundly, a soft snore escaped him every now and then, the cute fucker. Paul smiled softly and rolled out of bed. Standing up straight, he immediately stretched and opened the curtains all the way. Soft and sweet colours of twilight spreaded itself in front of Paul, a little bit of light seeped in near the horizon. The loud sound of the curtain being drawn harshly seemingly didn't bother John in anyway (except for a soft huff he let out). He turned and stretched, sprawling on the bed and continued on snoring. Paul couldn't help but beam at the sight. He knew John would rarely be awake at 7, nevermind 4 in the morning (except when they're about to record something early, which Paul would already push them around to get ready at half past 4 and arrive at 5). After a full minute, Paul decided to stop staring at John's sleeping form and go downstairs to get ready for the event.

"Mornin' Paulie. Up to do your 4 o'clock cleaning ritual?" George, laying on the sofa in a position very reminiscent of the girl in Titanic, looked up to Paul lazily, his phone illuminating his face in the darkness. Paul walked towards him and shoved George's feet aside. He flopped down and sighed.

"Y'know George, I probably should've told you before that we are going camping today, y'know, incase you had plans and such," 

"Yeah, probably," George answered. Paul bit his lips and frowned. He glanced at George who was still stone faced, scrolling on his phone. George seemed to notice the nervous action and quickly added "Oh, no. I don't have anything for the whole week."

"Well, alright then." Several seconds of silence passed by. "Sooo...," Paul began slowly, "Ringo." That managed to get a very quick and sharp glance from George.

"What about him?" George shot back. Paul let out an amused smirk. Carefully, Paul watched George's reactions out of the corner of his eyes, which, honestly, wasn't much, George being George.

"Exactly.. what about him?" Paul teased. He couldn't stop the grin that slowly forced its way to his expression as he watched a blush flower over George's cheeks, the bright light from his phone screen lit up the scene perfectly. All George answered with was a frown and furious, methodical scrolling. I'll take that as a win , Paul thought grinning with pride as he scanned the room. He frowned as an automatic thought came to his mind. A thought which he decided to share. "Y'know, playing on your phone with the lights off is really harmful for your eyes,"

All George did was roll his eyes and kept frowning.

** _7:43 A.M._ **

Ringo hates showers now. Not that he didn't like being clean, but the sense of overwhelming panic and anxiety looms over him everytime he thinks about touching water. But he can't be scared and duck down on something as simple as showering. Not when he's the oldest in the house and especially not with Paul around. He could already imagine Paul throwing a judgemental look at him before leaving him hints that he should clean up. It happens to John a lot anyway. Fortunately though, this shower went on rather uneventfully (minus the soap running out and him having to shout for George who handed him a new one, a slight blush on his cheeks). As he buttoned his shirt and slowly walked downstairs to the family room, he saw a bright pink bag next to a light blue one on the couch. A red one seems to be on the carpet and a green one leaned on an armchair, still in the plastic, untouched.

"Ringo!! We're going camping today!" Paul said excitedly as he skipped over to Ringo and directed him to the bags.

"Well, mornin' to you too, Paul," he replied, glancing at the 4 bright coloured, seemingly empty bags (except for the light blue one). Paul just smiled and pulled a small notebook seemingly out of nowhere and wrote in it, mumbling something about noodles.

Suddenly, the smell of toast and tea danced it's way to Ringo's nose. This was inciting in and of itself but the sight of George with his hands on his hip staring down the toaster seemed more interesting to him. He doesn't know why but despite showing majorly public affection, he would never really admitting to them mainly because "nobody asked". He sniffles a bit as he shuffles towards George and hugged him from behind as George plates the toasted bread and smears some strawberry jam on them.

"Mornin' love," George said, his whole waist enveloped by Ringo latching onto him.

"Mornin' smoochtsie poo," Ringo muffled voice answered back as he buries his face in George's shirt. Goerge chuckled as he places the plate of toasts down on the table, slightly dragging Ringo along with his movement. Ringo let go of his latch on George and sat down to eat a toast as George prepared some tea. Suddenly, Paul walked in from upstairs and threw two sleeping bags in the direction of the bags and swerved towards the dining table.

"We only have sleeping bags for two.." he mumbled as he took a piece of toast and leaned on the wall, taking his notebook to check it again. George just silently slid two cups of tea to Ringo and Paul then drank his own.

"Need to go shopping do we?" George asked as he sat next to Ringo and grabbed a slice of toast for himself.

Paul answered by frowning, scribbling on the list, and shoving it to George. "You two shop, I'll get your stuff packed." He smiled and skipped up the stairs, presumably to get clothes and bathroom necessities.

"Wait, I-"

"Use yer card for now, I'll pay you off,"

George turned to Ringo exasperatedly. "Can you believe 'im?"

Ringo giggled and grabbed another toast before standing up and walking toward the exit of their house. "Come on, George. You get to choose the snack, think about that." He heard a groan and a dull thud from the dining table. He felt George behind and tuned towards him, offering his coat. George stopped rubbing his elbow (bruised from the thud, Ringo thought) and grabbed his coat defeatedly. Ringo himself pulled a jacket on and opened the door for the two of them.

~●~

As soon as he heard the door click, Paul let out a sigh. That's taken care of, now time for the clothes. He glanced and John, sprawled on the bed, a snore every now and then and couldn't stop the smile growing on his face. He opened John's drawer (although, really, some of the other three's clothing could be found there) and gathered the needed clothing out and into a bright green bag. After half an hour, he ticked John's equipments off his list. One down, two more to go . He decides he should clean the house too, since they'll be leaving for a few days.

** _09:12 A.M._ **

John stretched as far as he could, still feeling a little bit drowsy. He heard birds happily chirping outside and decided to wake up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, debating again on waking up or going to sleep again until he heard a loud crash downstairs followed by some soft whispered swearing. John rushed down the stairs to find Paul holding a bucket with cleaning stuffs and a broom in his right hand. A mop was on the floor in front of him. "How many times do I have to say that you only can carry so much cleaning supplies, McCartney?"

Paul jumped at the sudden voice but turned around and pulled a cheeky grin. "As if you don't try to get the groceries all in one go, Lennon."

John sauntered towards him and pulled him into a kiss. Paul dropped the bucket and broom and held John's arm and slung the other around John's waist. They broke after what seems to be ages yet over in a second. John glanced at the cleaning supplies on the floor and snickered.

"Might want to take that to the bedroom soon, bonnie," he said as he dragged Paul along upstairs.

~●~

"Y'know, I'm not sure about this camping thing," George said as he struggled with the groceries, feeling as if the carton holding the beers was about to rip. God, people probably think they're daft, carrying all that and walking home.

Ringo, who was equally as occupied with the camping supplies, tried to turn his head towards George without dropping anything or falling. "Yeah? Why's that? I'm sure we're rather used to doing things without planning, like. And it's Paulie's plan anyway, when has that ever gone wrong?"

George felt a weird feeling in his stomach of all the things he thought could go wrong and had gone wrong. "I dunno.. Maybe there'd be bears or wolves or something.."

"George, baby, there are no wolves and bears in England. Well, the zoos maybe, but not out wild," Ringo assured with a small chuckle.

George felt himself smile. Maybe his fears are rather irrasional so he proceeded to joke about it and with a small giggle said, "Well, what if the ones at the zoos- ACKH-"

Suddenly George felt himself fly forward. He felt his face redden, knowing the embarrassment it will cause him. So he waits for the inevitable.

**THUD**

"..Ouch.."

"GEORGIE!" Ringo swiftly swooped down, dropping everything in his arms. It seemed that George managed to somehow turn his body a full 180° and landed on his back, which meant the groceries (and beer) were saved but his body was not. He glanced down at his feet, somewhat listening to Ringo being glad that it was only a small stumble. A green, thick vine loosely wrapped around his jeans and shoe. He followed it with his stare to the tree directly next to them. 

"Ok, oh dear, here, I'll help you up. Lucky we're almost home," He felt Ringo pick try to help him up. He kicked his leg to untangle the vines and picked up the groceries with Ringo's help. Something tells him that wasn't there before..

"Come on, George. You can walk right?" Ringo asked, concerned and confused about the whole situation.

"Huh? Oh, er, yea, I can walk." George said, his face red as he saw two birds giggling on the other side of the street while pointing towards him.

~●~

Ringo pushed the door open with his shoulder and swiftly walked downstairs to drop everything he carried in their family room. Behind him George carefully tried to go down the stairs with a slight limp.

"Here, let me help you," Ringo said, rushing towards George. He took the beer and awkwardly helped George down the stairs. He sat George down on the chair and started checking for wounds, which George waved away.

"'M fine, Rich, really," he claimed as he stood up and tried to organise the messes of shopped goods. Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps went down the stairs until a disheveled Paul McCartney poked his towel-clad head into the room.

"Oh! You two are back! Gear we can start putting food in the drink cool box," he excitedly said, walking towards a blue cool box and dropping it down in front of George.

"Why did you shower again?" George asked, lifting an eyebrow. There was a flash of red in Paul's face as he aggressively shoved down the groceries they got. He went through half of it when John poked his dripping wet head in.

"Uh, Paul? Mal's at the door-"

"Fab! Everything's ready, then," Paul said with a smile and went upstairs as he dried his hair. He stopped briefly to seemingly judge John's shirt and boxers. "Put something on, dear. We're going now."

George smiled and proceeded to keep shoving groceries in the cool box (which proved rather hard considering the size of it) when John walked in again, with some jeans thrown on this time, carrying a small picnic basket. "There's some sandwiches in there. Paul also said that the crisps and biscuits should go in here," John droned. But instead of going back upstairs, he sat cross legged on the carpet. "What's that?" He pointed toward George's jeans where the very thick vine wrapped around him. He moves closer to investigate.

Ringo, the kind lad, brushed his hand on George's back softly on the most painful spot in a comforting manner. He sighed and started, "Well when we shopped, there was this-"

"LADS! Bring the cool box and basket up here and let's get camping!" Paul shouted from upstairs. Ringo glanced at John and shrugged.

"Tell you on the van," he said, lifting the cool box. John also shrugged and carried the basket upstairs.

“Okay. Look after the house for us for two days, okay? You don’t need to clean but don’t mess the house up. We’re gonna take the car. Okay?” Paul quickly explained as soon as they were out of the door which earned some jerky and confused head movements from Mal. Goerge felt like Mal was rather taken aback by the speed in which Paul spoke but Paul took it as a yes and skipped to the driver seat. He’s probably too excited to care at this point.

John shoved the basket in the backseat before shouting "SHOTGUN!" and ran to the passenger seat. George turned to Ringo and shrugged. Guess they'd sit together again, not that George minds in anyway. The two clambered into a seat with the cool box awkwardly placed in the middle and waved Mal goodbye.

"Ready, lads?" Paul basically screeched. "This'll be fun. LET'S GOOOO"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? So next chapter needs a coherent ending and it should be good! Hope you guys like this ^^ also I'm @quantumalgae on tumblr if you wanna check it out!


	6. Furry Little Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads ran into some problems in the woods.  
Warning: mentions of blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Casafrass for being my beta!! I've seemed to have forgotten the need of an editor until they actually editted it.

** _Present, 3 am_ **

Paul woke up with chills running down his spine. His hair stood on end, though it was perfectly toasty. He felt as if someone was stalking him. He didn’t know where it came from; he couldn't remember having a nightmare, but here he was, blinking at the tent’s wall, unable to go back to sleep. He considered shutting his eyes and praying that the fear would dissipate. Another feeling, however, overcame that urge. Paul closed his eyes annoyedly. Curse you, you weak-ass bladder.

He slowly shifted to get up and tried to move John’s arm (which laid heavy on top of his waist) as minimally as possible. A soft groan carried to his ears, followed by a mumbled “Why’re ye getting up? Don’t go…” Paul smiled at the adorable half-opened eyes and mass of messy auburn hair.

“I just need to take a leak. If I need something I’ll scream.” Paul whispered, kissing John's forehead.

“Oh, yer good at that. I’ll make sure I go runnin’ to you when ye do,” John answered, curling into himself.

“Thanks, dear. Love you.”

“Hmm.”

Paul zipped the tent up and stumbled as he tried to slip his shoes on while standing. He stops in front of a tree nearby but looks off into the dark woods. It wouldn't hurt him to go further, wouldn't it? He tried to find a secure place and managed to do so, not terribly far from the tents. As soon as he finished and started to walk back, he heard rustling. He looked towards the noise but couldn’t see anything.  _ Fuck _ , he thought,  _ the first rule after hearing a noise alone is not to look back or you’ll feel like it’s following you. _ He shut his eyes tight for a second and shook his head.  _ Don't be ridiculous, be brave. _ He furrowed his brows, making what he imagined to be a brave face.  _ Scrunch. Taptaptaptap.  _ Paul instinctually turned his head towards the sound, now to his right. He felt his braveness rapidly falter as he quickened his pace. He knows how this goes in every horror movie, and he doesn't want any of it. Beads of sweat started to form around his forehead as he walked as fast as he could.  _ Don't be a wimp and run into the tent. There won't be anything and they'd just laugh at you _ , he thought, albeit rather fearfully. Suddenly, the noise got very close and he forgot everything he just thought. He sprinted towards the tents as fast as he could. He could feel the blood racing through his veins as his legs pounded against the hard, leaf-covered floor of the forest. His lungs slowly grew painful as they burned the inside of his chest.  _ Nearly there, nearly there! _ Paul silently chanted. But as he neared the edge of the glade, he looked back just in time to see something pounce at him.

~●~

“AAAAAARRRRRGH!!”

John’s eyes snapped open and he sat straight up. Something happened to Paul. He grabbed the closest thing he could find to protect himself (in this case, his shitty acoustic guitar he’d bought recently) and ran out to see Ringo and George groggily walk out from their tent.

“Guys- Paul! That’s him! ‘e’s in trouble,” John panicked, pointing towards the screams. Their eyes widened at John’s words. They immediately picked up a stick from the pile of fuel they hadn't used (which wasn’t big at all) and followed John who’d already charged ahead, guitar held high.

John ran as fast as he could, heart thumping against his chest. What happened to his princess? Was he attacked? How dare someone attack his precious flower princess? Anger and adrenaline coursed through his blood as he rushed his way towards Paul. And then, there it was. Couldn’t quite see what, but something large, muscular and hairy was slashing away at Paul, who was trying to inch away. John saw red. He felt hot as anger took him and all he could think about was to protect Paul. Against his rational thought, he lunged forward screaming at the thing, feeling a strain on his throat. It looked up, yellow eyes staring at John. He raised the guitar up and pummeled it. He didn't care that George and Ringo stood frozen and petrified. He didn’t care that he was attacking alone. All he cared about was Paul, lying limp on the ground. If he died, he'd be proud to die protecting Paul.

With each hit, the guitar became less and less effective. The creature then swiped at John, snagging his jacket and bringing him face first to the ground with a loud thud. He sensed the creature looming over him. Quickly, he tried to get up when something whizzed past him. With a sickening crack, a large stone hit the thing square in the head. It staggered back, disoriented. John used the moment to run back to Paul and dragged him backwards. Showers of stones kept coming, almost never missing. It looked back towards the four with annoyance then turned and ran further into the woods.

“M-Macca? Princess, can you hear me?”

~●~

Paul lazily opened his eyes. Why is everything blurry and damp? His clothing was soaked and he felt cold. So cold. He heard John’s voice to his left and turned towards it. Sure enough, his Johnny was looking at him, eyes filled with tears threatening to fall. Why was John crying? Why was blood dripping out his mouth? Was he hurt? He tried to say something but his brain feels so slow. He lifted his left hand up to wipe the tears away but instead, pain seared through it and a small cry escaped his mouth. He saw John’s mouth move and then turn his head behind them, shouting something. Paul’s vision grew darker and narrower. No, he still wanted to see John. He wanted to comfort him. Why was John crying? And then everything went black.

~●~

George could hear John shouting at him to help carry Paul into the car while Ringo was to get it ready and drive them to the nearest hospital. John’s cheeks are lined with tear marks, George noticed, as he took his jacket and shirt off to staunch Paul’s wound. He kept staring down at Paul’s face, whispering, ‘you’re gonna be okay’ in between his sobs.

“Alright, lift him up on three, kay? One, two, three,” John commanded. George lifted Paul’s legs up and they swiftly made their way into the car, completely forgetting about their camp and belongings.

George tried to remember the road they’d travelled on the way here. There was a gas station basically next to the gate of the camping ground, there was a 7/11 about 2 miles away, and… a hospital. Empty looking and small, but definitely used, about 10 minutes from the camping ground at top speed. He tried to remember the turns in the road and he was surprised that he seemed to memorise exactly how to get there. Close by, he heard the engine of their small van sputter and walked even faster.

Once they got there, Ringo was sat behind the wheel, ready to leave with the doors opened. George heaved Paul into the car as John cradled him and went to sit in the front seat. He exhaled slowly and said, “Okay. I know where the hospital is, follow my directions.”

Ringo stepped on the gas and the van lurched forward, going faster than it probably should. The road was thankfully empty, eerie silence broken only by the roar of the van engine.

"Paul? Can you hear me? Paul, stay with us, please," John sobbed from the backseat of the van. No reply was heard and George felt all the more scared and panicked. As he reached out to point the last turn towards the hospital he heard, "It's alright, bonnie, we'll get you there and they'll patch ye right up! Y' don't even have to worry about it." Although tears streamed down his face, John smiled and tried to clean some of Paul's blood off of his face.

~●~

George startled the receptionist and the one and only patient in the waiting room by banging the door open. Behind him, John ran in carrying one limp Paul McCartney bridal style. His pants were covered in Paul's blood and George had some blood smeared on his clothing.

"He was attacked by something in the woods. He lost a lot of blood already, please help him quickly." George sputtered in panic at the receptionist, who was already phoning for help. After a few seconds, another nurse came in, probably the person on the receiving end of the call, immediately helped John with Paul and laid him on a bed nearby. George ran beside the bed to check on Paul. John meanwhile, was a crying mess from the shock as he stood frozen, not knowing what to do as they took Paul away from him. He seemed to only have his eyes on Paul and went to follow them.

As they were taking Paul off somewhere, Ringo went in having parked the car outside. He was about to go and follow the rest of his bandmates when the receptionist held him back.

"Sorry sir, are you with them?" He asked. Ringo nodded slowly. "Were you there at the time of the accident?"

Ringo looked on towards where Paul was being carried and weighed on having to take the time to tell this nurse details or quickly seeing his friend. He tapped his foot impatiently and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah…"

"Could you describe what attacked him and how?"

_ This should be easy _ , Ringo thought as he was about to tell her the cause but then stopped. What  _ did _ attack Paul? He blinked at the nurse and cleared his throat, feeling stupid for contradicting his own facts. 

"Uh… well it was huge. It looked like a wolf-"

"Sir, there are no wolves in England."

"I know! Tha's what I said. It could be a bear or something but it damn looked like a wolf. I mean, can't blame me. A bit too dark innit?" Ringo trailed off while vaguely gesturing towards the ceiling then outside. "Maybe it was one of those huge attack dogs I read about." He added, shrugging. "May I go see my friend now? Great big danger he's in, y'know?"

The nurse blinked. "Thank you for being cooperative we'll try to help-"

"Gear," Ringo mumbled, cutting her off, and proceeded to run off to Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Now that Paul is.. uh... busy, how will the three fare without their surrogate mum? Find out next episode- I mean chapter. See ya then!!
> 
> Tumblr: QuantumAlgae  
If you wanna talk about this on my tumblr, that is. If not, I've got some art there ig.


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